Staunch the Bleed
by gothraven89
Summary: Clark makes his return to life as both intrepid reporter for the Daily Planet and as Superman. But he isn't as alright as he lets on and has developed a certain self-destructive habit. When a certain billionaire/vigilante finds out, there is a reckoning and maybe the chance for them both to heal. Warning: Slash BRUCE/CLARK, don't like it don't read. Reviews are Loved!


Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to either Batman, Superman, or anything else within the DC universe, it is all owned by DC Comics, the creators, Warner Bros. and what have you. Not making any profit, just writing for enjoyment.

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Warning: Strong sexual content, possible triggering content.

Based off of a prompt from the Batman v. Superman Kink Meme.

Staunch the Bleed

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Clear blue eyes shot open with a harsh gasp as Clark was abruptly wrenched back into the waking world. He sat bolt upright in his bed with a yell. Had he been human he surely would have been wheezing with his lungs working hard to pull enough oxygen into them. But seeing as to how Clark was Kryptonian, he didn't need to catch his breath. Clark sat in his bed with the sheets tangled around his legs and his mind disoriented from the unceremonious ascent back into consciousness.

As he got his bearings, Clark looked around and took in his surroundings. It was dark and raining lightly outside, the bedside clock read 3:00AM and the apartment was silent. He was in his apartment in Metropolis and most importantly, he was alive and breathing. He was no longer in the cold dark earth that he had woken up in six whole months ago, the simple coffin of oak which he had punched his way out of with great efforts since the deprivation of sunlight had left him severely weakened. Sure, he had punched through the wood and dug himself out with the presence of mind to come up out of the ground a few feet away from his actual grave, but his muscles had screamed in sheer agony at the exertion. He had dug himself out, oriented himself as much as he could and walked home with the darkness of either late night or early morning shrouding him and his miraculous return to life. He had made it home to the Kent family farm and knocked on the door. His half-asleep mother had answered the door, nearly had a heart attack and then tackled him in a hug that would have been bone crushing had he been human. Shelby, their black and white border collie had jumped on them and joined the hug once her initial wariness had worn off.

Sitting there in the silence, Clark's lips curved up in a fleeting smile as he remembered his mother's reaction to his return, how after she had finished weeping, she had promptly ordered him to take a shower and change out of the now frayed and grungy suit he had been buried in. That had been about four months ago, meaning that he had been in the ground for a grand total of six months while his body had slowly regenerated from Doomsday's wound.

With a sigh, Clark turned his gaze to the other side of the bed, the cold and empty side. He was here in his apartment alone, no flaming red hair and big blue eyes. After his reunion with his mother, Clark's next reunion had surprisingly been with Batman himself. Clark had been stunned to learn that in the time that he was gone, Bruce had taken it upon himself to visit Martha and by extension him often. The billionaire and Mrs. Kent had gotten familiar enough to where Martha had immediately called him after Clark's return and the man had come literally flying in on his private jet the next day with an infallible Alfred by his side.

Their reunion had been slightly awkward. Clark had held no ill-feelings towards Bruce for the powerfully destructive fight that had happened between them, orchestrated by Lex Luthor, that had culminated in Batman nearly running Superman through with a spear of Kryptonite. Bruce had been guarded and gruffly contrite about what had happened. Clark had brushed off Bruce's apologies and instead had thanked him for saving his mother's life that night, and also for all the times Bruce had visited Martha in Smallville during the six months Clark had been gone.

Bruce had given Clark a genuine smile at the mention of Martha, telling Clark that it hadn't been any trouble on his part to be there for Clark's grieving mother. After that, the men who were Batman and Superman had talked over coffee and cleared the air between them with Martha and Alfred going into duel mother hen mode. While they had disagreement regarding each other's methodology, they agreed that they were better as allies than as enemies.

Clark's next big reunion had been with Lois, Bruce had been gracious enough to send his private jet to Metropolis to pick up a shell-shocked Lois and bring her to Smallville. After the euphoria had faded, they had decided that it was best that they be friends, for he had been dead and Lois had moved on as was her right. She was now off on assignment in the Caribbean with Clark's promise to be their should she need his assistance. The next reunion Clark had experienced, had been with a certain billionaire who also happened to be the Dark Knight of Gotham City. This had happened when Clark had secretly returned to Metropolis and his own apartment. Thanks to Lois, it had been left in tact with all of his worldly possessions.

It had been Bruce who had broached the subject of Clark Kent and Superman's individual returns to life, how that would go down. In all honesty, Clark hadn't really thought about that. Superman coming back to life was easy to explain, he was the near invincible other worldly being. But Clark Kent, who many people saw get buried in a small cemetery next to his father's grave in Smallville, Kansas, that return would be tricky to explain.

Bruce being his brilliant and well-connected self had come up with something that actually worked. As the story went, Clark had been covering the massive fight that had gone down in an abandoned part of Gotham and had gotten hurt in the ensuing melee. His id and such were lost and he ended up in a coma and remained a John Doe in hospital for all those months. Meanwhile, Clark identification was found by a man who ironically bore a striking resemblance to Clark, a fictional man that Bruce used his superior computer skills to create a paper trail for. Said man conveniently lost his life during the epic battle with Doomsday due to his illegal squatting on the abandoned property where the fight took place.

It had been the two of them working together on a stealth mission in Smallville replacing Clark's empty grave with a life-like dummy version of himself with a few subtle changes to his face that had furthered the cover-up. After everything had been set up, Clark made his return to the living, much to the astonishment of Metropolis. It had been total and complete bedlam for weeks, but it had eventually died down with Clark retaking his position as an intrepid reporter for the Daily Planet. The headstone bearing his name was removed and the fake body meant to be the other mans was exhumed and reburied elsewhere. Once the fan fair had died down, Clark simply went back to work and graciously put up with the multitude of crappy Jesus jokes at his expense.

Convenient.

Then two months after Clark's miraculous return, an even bigger miracle smiled down at Metropolis as Superman made his triumphant return to life in typical Superman fashion, by first saving a little girl's kitten that got stuck up a tree near his apartment and then flying to the bay between Metropolis and Gotham where a gigantic cruise ship was in the midst of sinking. Superman, with the light of the sun shining down on him, lifted the cruise ship clear out of the water and used his laser vision to seal the breech in the ship's hull before setting the massive ship back down in the water and then towing the entire thing to port without a single casualty.

Metropolis and the World had watched the whole thing enraptured, a reporter with red hair and blue eyes had stood on the Metropolis piers with her camera-man smiling ear to ear as she had watched the flying man in red and blue, in Smallville Kansas and older woman had paused in giving her dog a bath to watch her tv with a proud smile on her face as the new castor had excitedly relayed the breaking news happened in Metroplis. And finally, at the top of a tower of glass and steel with a large crest with a "W" on it, a billionaire with hints of gray at his temples and wearing a sleek and massively expensive dark navy suite had stood at the window to his penthouse office allowed the corners of his lips to curve up into a small, guarded smile as he had watched the triumphant return of Superman.

That had been two months ago, when Clark had made his return as Superman and resumed his duties as a guardian of Earth.

Clark let out a shuddering breath as he returned to the present, breaking free of his musings. That was the past, he wasn't Superman right now, he was Clark Kent who was ripped out of a dead sleep by the memories of waking up cold and alone within the minuscule confines of his own coffin.

All at once Clark felt the cold wave of crushing despair crash over him. With a low groan, Clark untangled himself from the sheets and made his way to the bathroom to splash some water onto his face. With sleep effectively shattered, Clark made his way through his dark apartment to the kitchen. He drank some milk and then headed out into the living room, his bare feet padding across the hardwood floor. Dressed in a simple white t-shirt and red and white checkered sweatpants, who would believe this was the same man capable of defying gravity and with enough strength to lift whole buildings into the air?

With a small groan, Clark wearily sat down on the sofa and turned on the TV, channek-surfing until he came to some mindless scifi movie that was on one of the channels. The movie droned on and Clark genuinely watched the it for a good ten minutes before his dulled blue eyes fell on the coffee table in front of him. He stared at it normally for a few moments before his used his x-ray vision, looking through the table and the rug and floorboards underneath it to the small, square box that was hidden all the way beneath everything. The box remained opaque to Clark's extraordinary vision, revealing that it was a lead-lined box.

Clark blinked and his vision returned to human. Feeling his heart pounding, Clark looked away from the spot he was staring at and tried to focus on the movie. Five minutes later he was looking back at the hidden crevice under his floorboards again, gazing at the hidden, lead-lined box. He was at the razors edge, teetering between shutting everything off and going back to bed to toss and turn on one end and moving the coffee table and floor boards away and retrieving the box he had hidden there.

With a breath, Clark made his decision and slid down from the couch onto the floor, pushing the coffee table and rug away before seeking out the loose floorboard underneath. He tucked his fingers under it and pulled it away before reaching inside to pull out the lead-lined box. He got up and sat back down on the couch, placing the box in his lap. There was a light tremor running through his hands, an actual tremor as Clark stared at the box lined with the one material he couldn't see through. Letting out a shaky breath, Clark slowly reached out and undid the clasp that held the box shut. With his blood roaring in his ears, Clark slowly pushed the lid of the box open and then flinched involuntarily as a poisonous green glow burst free from the box.

" Hmmm." Clark groaned softly and looked inside the box, feeling waves of nausea and sharp, stinging pain through every cell of his body under the ominous green glow of the Kryptonite.

His blue eyes were dull as they gazed at the sharp looking shard of glowing green rock that had showed him his weakness, his vulnerability. Gritting his teeth, Clark reached into the box and pulled the Kryptonite shard out.

The thing felt like molten lava in his fingers, yet Clark held on to it and breathed through his gritted teeth. Before he could stop himself, his eyes stung with salt and filled. With quiet rage and maybe even a hint of desperation written across his rapidly paling features, Clark brought the shard to the inside of his opposite arm by his elbow and pressed the jagged edge into his flesh hard enough for it to sink in before he started to pull the thing across his skin.

" Ah." Clark cried softly, watching as the Kryptonite sliced into him and dark red crimson spilled forth out of his splayed skin.

With a small sob, Clark made two more cuts before he finally groaned loudly and tossed the bloodied shard of Kyrptonite back in the box still in his lap and slamming the lid shut. Clark finally let the tears fall free from his eyes as he fell back against the couch and writhed in a different kind of agony. With a low keen, Clark cradled his bloodstained arm to his chest. He let out another broken, low sound as he stared at what he had done to himself. With the Kryptonite safely contained, Clark watched with dead eyes as the three jagged cuts on his arm rapidly healed, the torn flesh closing up so completely that there weren't even any trace of scarring. There was just smooth, pale skin and the stark crimson blood staining it.

As he sat there with shame and enervation washing over him, Clark stared dejectedly at his healed, bloodstained arm and spoke to the silence of his apartment.

" Oh God."

Then with a groan, Clark slumped over and hung his head in utter exhaustion, finally allowing the tears to fall as quiet sobs wracked his body.

This was how Clark Kent would spend some of his more sleepless nights. About a month earlier he had made a secret trip to the Indian Ocean and dug up the shard of Kryptonite from the depths of the waters, secreting it away back to Metropolis and keeping it under his floorboards. There had been something intoxicating about having a piece of the only thing that could cut through his invulnerability right there. But just having it under his feet had soon become insufficient, so he had started opening the box and feeling the blood curdling effects of the poisonous green rock, often in the morning right before he left to go to work. Yet again, even that soon wasn't enough to fulfill Clark need to feel something other than the coldness of his grave and the loneliness of his isolation. About two weeks ago he had finally worked up the nerve to use the shard to cut himself. He had done it in the bathroom and simply nicked the side of his palm and watched his blood drip onto the white bathroom sink with morbid fascination before he had put the shard away and watched as his Kryptonian healing factor left him without so much as a shadow that the cut had been there.

After a lifetime of not getting hurt by anything, Clark had been fascinated by the sight of his own blood, something he had only seen once or twice like right before he had passed out on Zod's ship because he was not acclimated to Krptonian atmospherics or when Batman had cut his cheek before he'd nearly delivered the killing blow. That had been the first and only time he had ever bled, until now. The green rock had drained him of his strength, rendered him as helpless as a newborn. He had taken the shard to the bathroom and used it to make a tiny gash in his leg. It had been exhilarating for all of about five seconds before horror and shame had crept in and left the Man of Steel trembling. That had been the first and only time he had done this to himself, until tonight. Tonight the combination of the stark memories of his immortality, his resurrection and his need to not still feel so dead inside had culminated in him giving in to the siren's call of his one true bane.

Tonight different in another way. The previous times Clark had exposed himself to the Kryptonite, he had taken it to his bedroom or the bathroom. This time he had stayed in the living room and unwittingly done what he had done in front of an audience.

About seventy miles away, at the outskirts of the dark city that stood across the bay from Metropolis, a man sat in a chair in front of several monitor that were currently showing a live feed of Clark Kent's darkened apartment, the crying man's quiet sobs of despair coming in through the audio. Where he sat in the central hub of the Bat Cave beneath his lake side house of glass, Bruce Wayne, the man who was Batman was in utter and completely horrified shock at what he had just witnessed.

When he had discreetly placed the nearly microscopic camera under Clark's small flat screen TV, Bruce never thought he would ever see what he just saw. Sure he had invaded Superman's privacy, but he was who he was and he wanted to keep an eye on the newly resurrected young man. For weeks he had wondered what Clark had been doing with that box under his floor boards, after seeing Clark take it out and go to another room so many times before always coming back looking a bit drawn in the face but otherwise ok. Now Bruce had gotten the full, hideous show and learned the truth. That the young man whom he had so horribly misjudged and nearly ended with a spear of Kryptonite through the heart was now using that same poisonous rock to harm himself directly.

As he sat there, Bruce felt his stomach roll violently as memories of his own growled out question, his seething and hateful promise as he had watched Superman fly away the night they had met face to face for the first time as their alter egos crashed through his head mercilessly.

 _Tell me, do you bleed?... You will._

With a shaky breath, Bruce slumped back in his chair and ran his hand over his face. The sounds of Clark's sobs quieting down to a few hitched breaths had Bruce looking up at the main computer screen in time to see Clark slowly rise to his feet. With tear stains on his pale and haunted face, Clark lethargically put the lead-lined box back under the floorboards and righted the furniture before he rose to his feet and padded away, most likely to the bathroom to clean himself up.

Bruce reached out and pressed a button to kill the feed, his entire being left completely shaken still.

What he had just seen had answered Bruce's growled out question. Yes, Superman did bleed, and he was bleeding still. Bruce allowed the cold desolation and crushing guilt wash over him mercilessly for a few minutes longer, his eyes growing over bright in the privacy of the Bat Cave. Then Bruce took a deep breath and his eyes hardened with a steely resolve. He had installed that camera with the intention of spying on Clark and to observe the man behind the persona of Superman in his regular civilian life, and just maybe, just maybe he wanted to simply see the strikingly gorgeous young man alive and well after seeing him cold and silent in death. Now he had just witness how deep in despair that man, a good man, was drowning and he would be damned if he didn't do something about it.

 _A couple of nights later in Gotham City..._

The night air was crisp and blowing hard enough to make his batwing-like cape billow about him. Bruce, in his full Batman regalia stood on the roof of one of Gotham's tallest building. It was almost as tall as Wayne Tower, but Bruce had thought better of setting up the meeting at his own place. This building was a bit less conspicuous, and was also closer to the city's edge, giving Batman a clear view of the bay, and the bright city that stood at the other side of it.

Metropolis.

The city bathed in light, the counterpoint to Gotham's dark reputation. The place where any moment now, the person Bruce had asked to meet him on this rooftop would come literally flying out of. As he stood there, Bruce kept hi expression neutral behind his cowl, but his mind could not help but ponder just what might happen tonight once the person he was waiting for arrived. This person was an otherworldly being capable of the impossible. Bruce knew that with a single flick of his finger, Superman could send him flying right off of this room, that one hit could finish him. Bruce had on his regular Batsuit, not the heavy armor and weaponized Kryptonite heh had had on that horrible night where rage and boiling hate had blinded him to the truth, that night where he had nearly made one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

Bruce was shaken from his musings when his keen eyes caught sight of a dark speck rising up out of the Metropolis skyline and heading towards Gotham. As this figure flew across the bay, more details came into focus, like the red cape that looked almost blood red in the darkness of the night billowing behind the figure clad in a dark blue suit.

Bruce reached up and pressed the com-link by his right ear.

" He's coming Alfred, you best get to work." Bruce said.

" Understood Master Bruce, I shall retrieve the offending item. You just be careful and try not to get yourself thrown clean off the planet sir." Came a posh, if long suffering voice of Alfred Pennyworth from the other end of the link.

Bruce waited and simply allowed himself to take in Clark, the man who was Superman, in full flight through the night sky. He was quietly elegant in flight, cutting through the air like a fish would through water. He looked completely whole and normal, resurrected and in the full swing of his duties as the guardian of Metropolis. But Bruce knew better, he had seen through his underhanded means just how far from alright this man, this extraordinary _man_ was.

Clark pulled up into the air and landed on the roof with a light thumb, not even so much as causing a single crack in the concrete beneath his red boots. In the light of the moon up above and the city down below, Superman looked tall and almost regal, completely whole. Bruce's eyes immediately when to the red and gold emblem emblazoned across the other hero's chest, specifically the subtle warp in the alien material where a large whole had one been. Unbidden, Bruce's mind conjured memories of that horrible night when beneath the hole in Clark's suit there had also been a fresh, bloody stab wound and the man himself had laid still and eagle-spread in the dead claws of a man-made monstrosity with his blue eyes empty of life. Taking a deep breath to ready himself and drive away the memories, Bruce stepped forward to greet Superman.

" Thanks for meeting me here." He said with his regular voice and not the voice modulated electronically to hide his identity.

If Superman had been surprised by this fact he didn't show it as instead he smiled light and nodded.

" Think nothing of it, so what did you need to talk to me about?" Clark asked curiously as he eyed the Dark Knight of Gotham.

" Tonight's actually been rather quiet, just a botched bank robbery near the financial district that I took care of earlier. My patrols and monitoring haven't picked up anything major going down from any of my usual suspects. No major disasters happening at the moment." Bruce said, watching as Clark's brow knitted in light confusion.

" Then why did you call me saying we needed to meet up here Bruce? What's going on?" Clark asked warily, knowing full well what the man standing across from him was capable of.

Bruce felt a pang go through him unbidden, as if sensing the same thing that Clark was thinking, and yet again remembering the brutality with which he had beat and nearly murdered the man standing across from him. Knowing that it was now or never, Bruce closed the distance between them, letting his anger at the situation rise up inside him.

" I called you here Clark so that I could ask you how your arm is doing. You know, the one that a couple of nights ago you sliced open with a shard of Kryptonite?"

Bruce's words were met with dead silence as Clark stared back at him with wide blue eyes and his mouth agape as all the color drained out of his face. The shock didn't last long as Clark's face turned into one of muted anger and outrage. He close whatever distance remained between them and got right into Bruce's face, the Batman not so much as blinking or moving at all only serving to incense him further.

" How the fuck do you know that?" Clark growled.

Lesser men would have cowered under those blue eyes capable of melting steel, but Bruce met Clark's gaze head on as he spoke.

" When we met up for the first time at your place after you came back to Metropolis, I planted a camera under your TV and I've been watching you." Bruce replied simply. He watched as Clark's expression grew even more furious but even then the Kryptonian didn't so much as lift a finger towards him.

It told Bruce that even with how angry Clark was, he still didn't want to hurt him. That made that awful, cold guilt in Bruce's stomach twist furiously. Bruce shoved down the feeling and focused as Clark spoke.

" Who the fuck do you think you are spying on me Wayne?" Clark shouted.

Clark watched, slightly flabbergasted as Bruce actually had the nerve to smirk at him from under his cowl as he spoke.

" I am Batman and a billionaire with more tech than he knows what to do with." Then Bruce's expression grew deathly serious once more as he skewered Clark with his dark eyes.

" I know enough to know that when someone comes back from the dead after being buried in the ground for six months, three weeks, and two fucking days, they aren't going to be alright, like they're gonna be magically ok after waking up in their own coffin and clawing their way out of their grave, even if they are nearly indestructible. Call it invasion of your privacy, call it caution, call it curiosity, call it whatever the hell you want, but what you did that night just proves that you are the farthest thing from alright!" Bruce seethed.

" So what? You want a Goddamn prize?" Clark shouted, though a small part of him had noticed how exact Bruce's words regarding how long he was gone were, right down to the day.

" You took the one thing that can hurt you and you used it to split your own flesh open not once, but three time. What the Hell am I supposed to think Clark?" Bruce growled.

" You aren't supposed to think anything about it Wayne, you had no right to even see me like that." Clark shouted back with his fists clenched at his sides. Bruce plowed on as if not hearing any of this.

" _Three_ times, you sliced yourself. What would you have done if you had sliced through an artery or a vein? Even with me watching I wouldn't have gotten to you in time to stop you from bleeding out on your apartment floor!" Bruce snarled.

Bruce watched as Clark's face twisted into a horrible, humorless smile. It was a look that had no business being on Clark's face as far as Bruce was concerned as Superman spoke.

" I'm not human, remember? You don't know where my veins and arteries are, I can see through my own arm, I knew I wasn't cutting anything vital." Clark said, the anger rolling off of him.

" Is that supposed to be reassuring? Even then, how could you be so reckless with your life, especially after you already came back from the fucking dead?" Batman yelled.

Clark entire expression closed off as he shook his head.

" I don't have to stand here and take a lecture from you Batman. It's none of your damn business what I do." Clark turned to take off into the air, but instead found himself grabbed by the arm and turned back around to see the blazing dark eyes of Bruce Wayne through the cowl of Batman as the black clad superhero spoke.

" Well I've made it my business Clark, and I didn't just call you here to confront you about the Kryptonite."

At Clark's hard stare, Bruce continued.

" The moment I saw you flying up from Metropolis I gave Alfred the go ahead to go to your apartment and take that glowing green shit out of there. He's probably on his way back-OOF!"

The rest of Bruce's words ended in a grunt as he was suddenly knocked clean off his feet and flying across the roof with an unforgiving hand gripping the front of his Batsuit. Bruce let out another grunt as he was shoved up against the little building that led to the stairwell of the building. When he looked up, Bruce found himself staring into a pair of clear blue eyes blazing with renewed rage. Clark had picked him up with one hand and flew him across the roof to the staircase and was now holding him firmly against the wall. But even then Bruce did not feel terror as others would have, because he knew that Clark could have ripped him to shreds with his bare hand and tossed his ruins to the four corners of the globe if he had wanted to, or at the very least thrown him right through the brick wall that was currently digging into his back, and instead had simply shoved him up against it just hard enough to knock a little bit of breath out of him.

That was the kind of man Clark Kent was, the kind of man that Bruce had so horribly misjudged.

Catching his breath, Bruce braced himself as Clark opened his mouth.

" How dare you break into my apartment! You call Alfred and you tell him to put it back right now!" Clark demanded.

" The Hell I will, I'm not gonna let you play with that poison for one more second Clark!" Bruce vowed through gritted teeth as Clark pressed him deeper into the brick in silent warning.

" I'm asking you one last time Bruce, call Alfred and tell him to put it back." Clark said slowly.

Bruce subtly reached for his utility belt.

" No." He said quietly before he raised his gloved hand and tossed something cylindrical on the floor between them.

Then there was a loud bang and a flash of light from the flash grenade Bruce threw that was enough for Clark to momentarily loosen his grip on Bruce's suit. That was all Bruce needed to expertly twist himself free. Clark was instantly alert and ready for another brawl with his fists raised as Bruce lunged at him with his signature cape billowing out around him.

Imagine Clark's shock as instead of an unforgiving fist colliding with his cheek like he was expecting, he found himself with a pair of lips crashing over his own in a deep kiss. Clark stood there wide-eyed in utter shock as he felt Batman's gloved hands reach up and gently take hold of his face while still kissing him. The moment Clark felt those lips on his own, felt the other man's light stubble against his clean shaven chin, Clark felt something hot uncurl in the pit of his stomach.

It had literally been months, _months_ , since he had any kind of meaningful physical contact with _anyone_ outside of holding people in his arms when he was rescuing them from whatever life-threatening situation they had landed themselves in.

Clark was too stunned to do anything more than stand there and reach up to grip one of Bruce's shoulders. Bruce kissed him like a man drowning. It was like fire spreading through his every vein, so unexpected, so new.

So glorious.

With a broken sound from the very depths of his soul, Clark finally moved, finally melted against Bruce. He blindly reached up and wrapped his arms around the older man and parted his lips as he began to respond to him. Bruce felt a surge of giddy triumph as he felt Clark kiss him back, but the euphoria soon receded as his earlier anger came flooding back. With a low growl Bruce wrenched his lips away from Clark. They broke apart with a gasp, Clark staring at Bruce wide-eyed, while Bruce stared back with hard eyes as he spoke.

" Just so we're clear, what just happened wasn't me distracting you so that you don't roast me with your laser eyes or turn me to pulp. Been wanting to do that for a while if I were completely honest."

" I call it heat vision actually." Clark said absently as he gazed at Bruce like he'd never seen him before in his life.

Bruce allowed the barest hint of a curve to the corner of his lips at Clark's correction before he grew serious and leveled a look at Clark that nearly rivaled the aforementioned heat vision in its burning intensity as he spoke.

" You're not going back to that apartment." He said flatly.

Clark looked like he was going to voice protest, but he wisely stayed silent as Bruce's gaze intensified.

" You are _not_. Now, we are getting out of here so you can follow me from high up or we get in my car, either way you are coming with me."

Clark found himself wilting under those dark eyes, the fight slowly draining out of him, leaving only the exhaustion. With a small sight, Clark nodded before he spoke.

" We can take your car." Clark said quietly as he averted his gaze.

If Bruce was surprised by Clark's choice, he gave no outward show of it as he reached up and cupped the side of Clark's neck, making the Kryptonian look back up in quiet surprise. Bruce withdrew his hand and jerked his head to the side, indicating that Clark should follow him as he made his way around the stairwell building and to the side of the building. The unlikely pair stood side by side on the ledge of the roof, their capes billowing lightly in the wind.

" I'm parked in that alley over there." Bruce said, pointing down bellow to the darkened space between two buildings a few yards away as he readied his grappling hook.

Clark nodded mutely as he waited for Bruce to fire his grappling hook and jump off the ledge before following after Batman by smoothly diving into the air. Bruce swung through the air before releasing the hook with an elegant flip mid-air and pressing a button to activate the electrodes in his cape to make the special fabric fan out like actual wings as he glided down the rest of the way. Beside him Clark descended fluidly through the air with his red cape billowing behind him and a closed off expression on his face. They landed in near perfect sync on the pavement in front of the parked Batmobile.

The formidable vehicle was splendid in all its dark, newly rebuilt glory. Bruce reached for a button on one of his gauntlets. A moment letter the dormant vehicle came to life with a low rumble as the top doors slid open with a mechanical hiss, revealing the inside of the vehicle where there was a driver's seat and a passenger's seat next to it.

" I never did apologize for wrecking this thing the first time we met as Superman and Batman." Clark said with a wane smile at Bruce.

" Don't be, with our line of work I'm always rebuilding and upgrading my ride." Bruce said simply with a nod.

Without any further words, Batman climbed onto the Batmobile and got in the driver's seat while Clark, after a moment's hesitation floated up and gathered his cape before he lowered down into the passenger seat. The moment he was seated, the automated seatbelt activated and snaked around Superman, meeting at the center of his chest in an "X" shape with the bat emblem at the center of the circular locking mechanism. Clark blinked down at the seatbelt now firmly fastened around him and then slowly turned his head to look at Batman. Bruce eyed the incredulous look Clark was leveling at him, resisting the urge to smile because he was still mad as hell, and instead just shrugged before pressing a button to close the doors over them.

Then with a roar the Batmobile was speeding out of the alley and onto the streets of Gotham. Despite knowing that he would be alright if they crashed, Clark subtly gripped one of the panels next to him and sat back as Bruce expertly navigated the streets at breakneck speed. The tension in the car was thick, neither man saying anything as they sat side by side with the city rapidly passing by the windshield.

 _" Drives like a maniac."_ Clark thought to himself as he settled in for the drive out of Gotham City.

Bruce weaved his way through the city and it was just as they were reaching the docks that Bruce pushed a button on the the steering wheel. In the distance Clark watched as a large section of the shipyard they had just enter suddenly opened up wide, revealing a hidden tunnel. With practiced ease, Bruce drove the Batmobile into the waiting entrance of the tunnel. Once the Batmobile had disappeared inside, the secret doorway closed shut with no one the wiser.

As the Batmobile glided through the dimly lit tunnel under the Gotham river, Bruce took a quick glance at his passenger. Clark was currently staring out the windshield at the passing tunnel with avid blue eyes. It was the first time Bruce saw some actual light in Clark's eyes that night and it made several powerful emotions rise up inside him all at once. Years of training and discipline helped Bruce force these emotions down and refocus his attention of driving as the other end of the tunnel came into view. The Batmobile emerged in the woods at the outskirts of the vast Wayne estate with a loud roar. The hidden door to this end of the tunnel also sank back into the ground with a layer of dirt falling over it to hide it away once more.

The Batmobile weaved through the deeply wooded dirt road.

" Just to warn you, in a couple of minutes we'll be driving headfirst into a lake." Bruce said as he made a final sharp turn with the aforementioned lake up ahead.

Clark glanced at Bruce with an unsurprised look on his face as he spoke.

" Thanks for the heads up." He said flatly as he settled back further in his seat.

At the end of the dirt road, Clark watched in silent wonder as the waters of the lake parted to reveal a brightly lit steel ramp leading into a steel tunnel. The Batmobile hit the ramp of dirt at the end of the road and went airborne for a few seconds before landing with a light thud onto the steel ramping and gliding inside. The mechanized doors then slid shut, dousing the light and allowing the lake waters to fall back around and hide it away from the outside world.

" Wow." Clark said as he eyed the massive, curving steel tunnel with the lights rapidly passing by with genuine interest and veiled wonder.

Bruce bit back the urge to smile and kept his face neutral, but in his mind he did allow himself to preen a little at having impressed the Man of Steel with his secret Head Quarters, and they hadn't even gotten to the main area yet.

The Batmobile finished the curve in the tunnel and the massive steel door at the end slid up to reveal the open area where the road straightened out, suspended by thick steel cabled over the vast abyss of the cave and led into the central head quarters. Bruce slowed down and turned the car into its special alcove before switching off the ignition and pressed the respective buttons for the seat belts to release and the doors to open. The seat belt locking mechanisms opened with a click and then the bands that had been securing them both to their seats slinked away back into their hidden compartments within the two leather cushioned seats.

They climbed out of the vehicle in silence, Superman following after Batman as the man clad in black led the way further into the Bat Cave.

" Alfred." Bruce called as he pushed his cowl back, revealing his face.

" Yes Master Bruce, I am here." Came the accented voice of Bruce's ever faithful guardian, Alfred Pennyworth as the English gentleman came towards them from the main computer area to greet the cave's newly returned owner and his special guest.

" Good evening Master Clark." Alfred said as he caught sight of Clark standing a few feet behind Bruce.

" Hello Alfred." Clark said quietly. His anger from earlier returning, though not as strong as when he had first found out what Bruce and Alfred had done, breaking into his apartment and all. Bruce stepped away to one of the suspended work tables nearby, leaving Clark and Alfred to face each other.

" I hope you don't mind but in addition to removing a certain item from your apartment, Master Bruce asked that I pack you an overnight bag." Alfred said, pointing to a large but familiar duffle bag sitting on a nearby work table.

Clark nodded to Alfred, sending the older man the best smile he could muster.

" Thank you Alfred." Bruce said as he rejoined them, sans his utility belt, gloves, and spiked gauntlets.

" Of course sir." Alfred said as his eyes subtly looked between Clark and Bruce, sensing the tension that was all but corporeal between them.

The Butler then stepped away, heading for the main staircase that wrapped around a glass case in which hung Master Jason Todd's Robin suit with the graffiti the Joker had sprayed on it in garish yellow.

" Dinner shall be served in twenty minutes." He called over his shoulder.

" Understood Alfred." Bruce called before the Butler disappeared up the steps, leaving Bruce and Clark to each other.

They stood their staring at one another, so much swirling between them in the loaded silence before Bruce finally spoke.

" We should go change." Was all he said before he simply walked away towards the changing room, Clark watching his retreating form with an astonished expression on his face.

Here he was, basically in the home of the same man who had spied on him for months and said man was not fazed at all by Clark's ire. Clark stood there tensely for a few moments longer, until Bruce turned around just as he was about to duck into the changing room and sent him a look that had Clark deflating. With a sullen look, Clark snatched up his duffle bag and followed in Bruce's wake.

Inside the changing room, Clark observed that it was like a locker room with floor to ceiling frosted glass dividers in place. Bruce entered one of the stalls and started to take his cape off. Feeling his mouth suddenly go a bit dry and his face heat up, Clark averted his gaze and quickly ducked into the stall next to Bruce. He set his duffle bag on the built in table and looked to the side where he could see Bruce's dark, obscured form through the opaque glass.

" You going to take a peek Clark?" Bruce's voice sounded from the other side of the glass and Clark jerked a little before he let out a small snort as he spoke.

" No, I'm gonna respect your privacy Bruce." Clark shot back with fake cordialness as he turned away and unzipped his duffle bag before he went about pulling off his boots and shoving them into the duffle.

Clark didn't have to look through the glass to know that Bruce was smirking on the other side. Feeling his own lips twitching a little, Clark quickly focused on changing out of his Kryptonian suit. Once he had his red boots off, Clark reached up and undid the hidden clasps that held his cape to his shoulders. He detached the cape and folded it up before tucking it inside the open bag.

Clark then reached down to the square medallion on the belt-like design around the waist of his suit and pressed down on it. A moment later the alien material of the suit smoothly parted, starting at the small of Clark's spine and slowly traveling up the length of his powerful back and ending at the base of his neck. With a sigh Clark reached up and began pulling the suit off. He freed his arms and then pulled it down over his waist and legs leaving him in the boxer briefs he had on underneath. Once the suit was folded and tucked away, Clark fished through the bag to see what Alfred had selected for him.

Instead of a single change of clothes, Alfred had packed him about a week's worth. He had sweaters, button up shirts, t-shirts, sweatpants, slacks, and jeans. To Clark's light embarrassment, Alfred had packed his undergarments as well. Deciding on a little formality since he was a guest in Bruce's house for the first time, Clark pulled out a light blue and black checked shirt and dark blue jeans. He donned the jeans first and pulled the shirt on. As he did up the buttons, Clark's eyes happened to rest on his chest, specifically, the slightly raised and jagged crescent shaped scar right next to his heart. It was his first and only scar, a remnant of his battle with Doomsday and a constant reminder that he had actually died.

That _he_ had _ended_.

Clark could have sped through buttoning up his shirt, but he was just so tired at this point, tired and confused by what Bruce had done earlier, from the spying, to kissing him like a man starved. Clark was so lost in his thoughts about Bruce, that he startled lightly when said man appeared from the other side of the divide dressed in a black v-neck Henley shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair dark blue jeans.

" Clark are you-" Bruce began to ask, but he fell completely silent when Clark turned to face him with his shirt half open, lending a clear view of his chest.

Clark was about to berate Bruce for walking in on him in his state of undress, but he stopped when he noticed that Bruce's dark eyes were zeroed in on his chest, more specifically the scar. Clark observed as Bruce's face hardened and his dark eyes grew haunted as he gazed at the jagged reminder of all that had transpired. As Clark gazed at Bruce, he felt a jolt go through him as he saw that behind the haunted quality in those dark eyes, there were reservoirs of untold pain. It was enough to make something in Clark ache and crumble, a feat considering all that was already aching and crumbling within him.

The moment ended when Bruce blinked and came back to himself. Clearing his throat, Bruce looked away.

" Sorry, I just came to ask you if you were ready." He said as he looked back up at Clark and resolutely met his clear blue eyes.

Clark snapped out of his own reverie and quickly buttoned up his shirt, hiding away the scar and all the history it held as he nodded.

" Y-Yeah, I am good." Clark said as he ran his hand through his hair.

" C'mon then, let's not keep Alfred waiting." Bruce said before turning and heading out of the changing room.

Clark grabbed up his duffle bag and followed. As he and Bruce headed for the staircase, Clark's eyes noticed the alcove that stood to his left and hi slue eyes widened when he saw the Batsuit, neatly in place of a mannequin standing their, imposing even without being on its bearer. Clark marveled at how in the span of him taking off his suit and putting regular clothes on, Bruce had changed and replaced the suit in the alcove without the need for super speed. As they walked past the alcove, the curved door of the alcove smoothly slid across and locked into place, hiding the Batman suit away. Clark turned his attention back to Bruce, eying the older man's broad shoulders and powerful back under his Henley shirt with regular vision as the billionaire led the way up the steps that Alfred had used earlier.

Clark's eyes immediately went to the red and green battle suit that was on display, with "Ha Ha Ha Joke's on you Batman" written in yellow graffiti. There was a story there, and by the looks of it a tragic one. Clark investigative instinct kicked in but he quashed it down, now wasn't the time for that, he had more current issues to deal with.

Like why the Hell Bruce had kissed him.

A few moments later they had reached the top of the staircase where a lift against a wall of rock stood. Bruce stepped onto the large rectangle and Clark followed suit. Standing side by side the pair rode the secret elevator up. It came to stop in front of a formidable looking steel door. Clark watched on in silence as Bruce placed his hand on a glowing whitish blue hand print on the wall by the door. The panel scanned his palm and there was a soft beeping sound before the steel door smoothly slid up and way to reveal stained wood on the other side. At Clark's questioning look, Bruce reached out and pushed on the wood, which swung away wordlessly to reveal a sleek, modern living room on the other side where a fire was already going in the fireplace. Bruce wordlessly gestured for Clark to step through first before following in his wake. The wood was revealed to be a bookshelf, which Bruce swiftly pushed back into place, hiding the secret door to the Batcave.

It made several powerful emotions rise up in Clark, knowing that without saying a word, Bruce had shown him the entrances to the Batcave. That without saying a word, Bruce was trusting him with this priceless information.

" You can leave your bag there." Bruce said quietly, gesturing to the plush leather sofa in front of the fireplace as he stepped past Clark further into the living room.

Clark nodded and wordlessly set his duffle bag down on the aforementioned sofa before following after Bruce as the billionaire led him further into the house.

Everything about the house was sleek and modern, from the furniture and colors, to the walls made of clear glass allowing a panoramic view of the outside, especially the lake and the forest. They made there way into the kitchen where Alfred was setting down two plates of steaming food on the black marble kitchen island instead of the elegant dining table that stood a few feet away.

" What's on the menu for tonight Alfred?" Bruce asked with a warm smile Alfred's way, Clark finding his own lips turning up as Bruce gestured for him to take a set while he stepped further into the kitchen towards the stainless steel refrigerator. He came back with two bottles of chilled beer and set one down next to Clark's place. Clark nodded his thanks as the Billionaire too a seat in the chair next to him.

" Nothing fancy sir, just pot roast with a side of rice and steamed vegetables, though I would have preferred it seeing as to how this is Master Clark's first dinner here at the house." Alfred said with a rueful look on his face.

" Don't worry about it Alfred, this is more than enough." Clark said quietly with a grateful smile sent the Englishman's way.

A small part of him wanted to demand to know where Alfred had taken his box, but Martha and Jonathan Kent had raised him to be better than that.

" Thank you Alfred." Clark added sincerely, feeling Bruce's eyes on him.

" Think nothing of it Master Clark." Alfred replied with a smile, though it did not escape his notice just how tired Clark looked. The Butler was already concerned because of what Bruce had asked him to retrieve from Clark's apartment earlier in the night. But now as he looked at the young man, Alfred could see for himself why Bruce had insisted on bringing Clark home. There was definite shadow on Clark's face, a bone deep sadness in those striking blue eyes. Alfred of course, kept silent about his observations and instead drew the focus back to the meal he had prepared.

" Now I suggest that you both get busy eating before all my hard work grows cold." He said lightly, feeling triumph as earning small huff of laughter from Clark and a bright smile from Bruce before the pair obeyed his words.

At his first bite of pot roast, Clark had to force himself not to make an embarrassing sound. It had been so long since he had had a home cooked meal. While this had nothing on his mother's signature pot roast recipe, Alfred's cooking was definitely first class. As he ate, Bruce subtly eyed Clark, glad to see the other man eating with quiet enjoyment. Alfred remained ever watchful as he conversed with both Bruce and Clark, commending the latter on the help he had rendered last week to a beleaguered village in Brazil against an oncoming mudslide that would have surely obliterated it and all the people who called it home had it not been for Superman's intervention. Clark had smiled graciously at the praise, but both Alfred and Bruce could see that it was a bit strained. The tension still simmered in the back ground.

Inevitably, the meal came to an end and Alfred took their plates despite Clark's protests. Once everything was cleaned and put away, Alfred bid both Clark and Bruce goodnight, with a subtle look in his eye that asked them not to wreck the house now that they would finally be alone again.

Instead of a repeat of the knock down, drag out brawl they had partaken in nearly half a year ago, Clark and Bruce found themselves sitting side by side on the sofa in the living room with only the sounds of the fire crackling in the fireplace. They were both finishing their bottles of beer as Clark spoke.

" Why did you bring me here Bruce?" He asked quietly, to which Bruce sighed and set is beer down on the coffee table in front of them.

" You know it took me a whole month after you were buried to work up the nerve to visit your grave. To pay my respects, to just see you." Bruce said with a pained smile.

" After that I started going almost every other week."

Clark sat stunned at these words. He remained silent as Bruce continued.

" It was while I was there one time laying some flowers on you grave that your mother came up to me and told me that you liked roses and dahlias the best. After that she insisted that I come back to your house for coffee, she wouldn't take no for an answer." Bruce said with a warm smile at the memory of Martha insisting that he take some of her homemade oatmeal cookies with him when he returned to Gotham.

Clark found himself smiling as well, because of course his mother would be like that. Bruce went on.

" We got to talking, about how you grew up in Smallville, how hard it was for you as a kid with your abilities and all, how your father told you you needed to hide, and how lucky she was to have you as her son." Bruce said softly.

Clark immediately felt his eyes start to burn at Bruce's words regarding the time he spent with his mother. He clenched his jaw tightly and willed the tears back.

" Thank you for being there for her." Clark said quietly, doing his best to keep his voice even. Bruce nodded in acknowledgment.

" It became a thing, we'd go and visit you together and then go back to the house and talk. I was too stupid to get to know you when you were alive, but I felt like I got to know who you were as a person through your mom's stories, and through the place where you grew up." Bruce said before he let out a humorless huff and hung his head.

" It's a pretty lousy way to start having feelings for someone. After you spend years hating him, blaming him, and then viciously beating him and almost killing him with a spear you made from the one thing that can actually kill him. Then watching him give his life to save the world, and being there to see him buried next to his father in a small cemetery in Smallville." Bruce said with his voice steadily gaining volume.

Clark's jaw hit the floor as Bruce's words registered.

 _Bruce had feelings for him? How?... What?_

Clark was too stunned to speak as Bruce rose to his feet and walked over to the fireplace, picking up the silver poker and using it to angrily jab at the burning logs as he continued his quietly angry articulation of his feelings.

" Then something completely impossible happened. After six months I get a frantic call from Martha telling me that you were back, that you'd literally clawed your way out of your own grave. Then me and Alfred saw you for ourselves and I was never more glad in my life that you're from another world. But even then I kept my distance from you."

Clark swallowed against the painful lump in his throat and forced himself to speak.

" Why?"

Without turning, Bruce replied as he put the poker back in its holder.

" Because I bought into Lex's bullshit, I let my own anger cloud my judgement and turn me cruel, and because I... I hurt you."

Clark was about to stand up, feeling the control he had on his composure rapidly slipping away. He wanted to tell Bruce that they were okay, that he didn't hold any kind of ill-will towards him about what happened that night. In fact, all he felt was gratitude to the man who saved his mother's life.

" Bruce I-" Clark began to say, but he fell silent as Bruce finally turned around, and somehow had the all too familiar lead-lined box in his hand.

A long moment of silence passed between them, before Bruce stepped forward and closed the distance between them, sitting back down on the sofa and surprisingly enough, placing the lead lined box on the coffee table so that it was right there between them as he spoke.

" I made you bleed just like I promised, and now you're doing it to yourself and it's because of me isn't it?" Bruce asked grimly.

Clark gawked at Bruce for a long moments before he finally snapped out of the paralysis that gripped him and shook his head.

" Bruce no, I didn't go find this shard of Kryptonite because of what happened between us. And I don't want to die either." Clark said quietly as his blue eyes went to the box.

Bruce's brow knitted in confusion at Clark's words. They really did throw him for a loop as he spoke.

" Then why do you have it Clark? Why did you use it like that?" He asked.

It was here that Clark turned his gaze away from the box and looked to Bruce with a tired, humorless smile turning up the corners of his mouth. He looked so weary, yet so beautiful in the firelight that it took all Bruce had not to reach across and touch. Bruce quickly quashed these thoughts down because Clark was finally talking, explaining, and he was going to actually listen this time damn it.

" After I graduated from college I just packed a bag and got on a bus to some random place, started wandering from there. I'd work these odd jobs and never stayed in one place for long. All my wandering led me all the way up to Alaska." Clark said with a nostalgic huff.

" Pretty remote place to end up." Bruce said, allowing himself a small smile as he remembered his own bygone days of wandering after he graduated, and after his parent's murder case had gone cold. He listened with full attention as Clark continued.

" And cold too, only, with me being me I never felt it. Usually wore the layers just to look normal in that kind of weather. But it was while I was up there in Alaska that I ended up as a Greenhorn on a crab fishing boat on the Bearing Sea."

At Bruce's raised eyebrow Clark just shrugged.

" They didn't ask too many questions, just needed someone in good health and ready and willing to deal with absolutely miserable conditions. With them I could be just a guy testing out his sea legs." Clark explained before he continued.

" I was on that boat for four months. Got yelled at every day, needed to constantly be saved by the senior deckhands because I kept being in the way of crab pots and chunks of ice that would fall from high up, and had a constant spray of ice water in my face while working and even then I never really felt it. Then one day there was this massive fire on an oil rig about three miles from the boat. I heard that there were people trapped on the rig because of the fire so I just took off, swam all the way to the rig."

" I hadn't learned to fly yet, or that I even could." Clark added at Bruce's questioning look.

" Long story short, I managed to get the men onto the rescue chopper but then the tower on the rig started to go so I stayed behind and held it back long enough for them to fly away before the whole thing fell on me. I ended up getting knocked out and going into the water in nothing but my burnt up clothes and just floated beneath the surface, let the current carry me away for what felt like hours."

" How long can you hold your breath?" Bruce asked quietly.

" Indefinitely." Clark answered simply before he looked away from the fire and met Bruce's dark eyes.

" Even though I was literally in some of the coldest waters on Earth, I still didn't feel it. I just woke up and swam to shore, stole some clothes and hitch-hiked to another town."

Then Clark looked back at the fire with tired, dull eyes as the memories he had been keeping at bay finally came to the forefront.

" When I woke up in my coffin, at first I couldn't feel anything, I couldn't move, couldn't even understand where I was. All I could do was breath and blink, and all I could see was blackness."

Bruce felt his own insides grow frigid with dread as Clark's works registered. It took all Bruce had to sit still and listen as Clark continued his story.

" The first thing I did feel was cold, completely and totally cold through every inch of my being." Clark said with a small, humorless smile before he went one.

" In all my life I've never felt anything like it. The cold that seeps right into your very soul. The cold stayed, and then I started to feel this searing hot pain in the center of my chest where my wound was. It would throb in time to my heartbeat. It was the pain that woke me up completely, got my mind working enough to where I knew I needed to move, needed to just get out of there. It was as my mind grew clearer that I also realized that I was buried, that I remembered Doomsday stabbing me, and me forcing the spear through him before everything went black. That I... died."

It was here that Clark paused and took a shaky breath. Bruce shifted closer, wanting to reach out when Clark looked up and shook his head.

" Let me finish Bruce." Clark said softly, almost pleading. Bruce nodded and waited as Clark took in a shuddering breath and continued.

" I could think, I could feel, but I couldn't move. My whole body was just locked in place." It was here that Clark's face curled with light disgust.

" I couldn't see them, but I could feel the worms and the bugs that had made their way inside my coffin, could feel them crawling through my clothes and in my hair. I even had to blink them out of my eyes and blow my nose hard enough so that they wouldn't crawl in."

Bruce had to close his eyes for a moment, his stomach rolling dangerously at the horror Clark was describing. Taking a deep breath of his own, Bruce opened his eyes and kept his gaze on Clark as the other man explained further.

" I don't know how many days, or maybe just hours it took, but I finally got my right thumb to wiggle and I went from there getting the rest of my body to work. I didn't have my strength, so at first all I was doing was literally tapping on the lid."

Though Clark's voice was light, Bruce could see the untold pain in the younger man's eyes.

" I kept tapping away until the tapping turned into hits. I kept hitting and hitting until I finally broke through... Only to have a whole lot more dirt fall on me. I kept clawing my way up until I finally reached top side. Once I was out I just laid there on the grass and breathed. It was still dark out, so I could see the stars. I needed sunlight, but I had never been more happy to see a night sky in all my life. After that I walked home and you know the rest." Clark said with a sigh.

Bruce nodded, needing a second to process all that Clark had revealed before he spoke grimly.

" You still haven't told me why you have the Kryptonite Clark."

Clark seemed to deflate further and look even more exhausted as he spoke.

" I came up from the ground and I healed under the sunlight, got my powers back and became Superman again. But the cold, that cold that I felt in my own grave didn't leave me. It stayed no matter where I went, whether I was out buying lunch and standing in the sunlight as Clark, or flying high up in the skies as Superman with the Sun literally on top of me, the cold stayed. It's still here now." Clark said quietly as he pointed to his own heart.

Bruce felt his own heart lurch at Clark's words.

" After me and Lois broke up and I had been back for a few months, I tried to focus on work and not how I was feeling. I didn't tell my mom anything either. I was at home one night and it was late, I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk to clear my head. All I felt was numbness, emptiness. It was while I was walking past this random bar that I noticed the sign, or rather the color of the lights. It was a bright green, and it was all I needed to remember the Kryptonite. I went back home, put on my cape, found this box in my closet, and then flew to the Indian ocean where I searched the bottom and found the shard." Clark explained as he gestured to the lead-lined box.

Clark then looked at Bruce and spoke.

" I didn't find the shard to kill myself. The Kryptonite it, that first time you shot that gas at me, I had never felt that kind of pain before, never felt my strength just leech out of me like that. For the first time in my _whole_ life, I felt _vulnerable_. So when I found the shard at the bottom of the ocean, before I put it in the box I felt what it does to me. It made every nerve ending in my body scream and for the first time since I came out of my grave I felt something, I wasn't so _Goddamned_ _cold_ anymore. So you see Bruce, it wasn't because of you. This is all on me."

Bruce took a deep breath through his nostrils and nodded. Both men turned their gazes to the fire and sat in silence. Clark sat feeling more free than he had felt in a very long time. Bruce sat with his mind racing and his anger towards Clark for his actions abating somewhat but not evaporating by any means. It was Bruce who broke the silence.

" How many times did you cut yourself besides when I saw you?" He asked, his voice quiet and deathly serious that made it clear that Bruce would not stand being lied to.

Clark swallowed before he answered.

" Just one other time, the first time I worked up the nerve. I went to the bathroom and cut my palm then watched it heal."

Clenching his jaw, Bruce nodded before he spoke.

" What you did, what you've been doing with the Kryptonite is incredibly stupid Clark. This thing affects you on a _cellular_ level. Neither of us know if there has been any lasting damage to you because of all the gas you inhaled and your exposure to the spear. Exposing yourself to it was bad enough, but then you cut yourself and for all you know you could have sent particulates straight into your bloodstream."

Clark ducked his head in shame and felt his eyes start to burn again. He started lightly when he felt a warm, calloused hand cup his jaw and tilt his head up so that he was eye to eye with Bruce. Clark would have liked nothing more than to revel in the warmth of human contact, but now was not the time as he met Bruce's angry, pain-filled gaze.

" Do you have any idea just what I felt when I saw you cut yourself, when I realized what was inside this box and what you were doing with it?" Bruce said quietly as he gestured to said box.

Clark would have preferred it if Bruce had yelled, screamed, even punched at him. Anything was better than the broken quality to the older man's voice.

" 'm sorry Bruce." Clark said past the lump in his throat.

Bruce nodded and sat back, his hand leaving Clark's cheek. Clark acutely felt the loss and watched as Bruce all but collapsed back against the sofa and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, looking exhausted in his own right. Another beat of silence passed between them before Bruce sighed and spoke.

" You are right, I don't have any kind of say in what you do. You are a grown man and I am sorry that I forced my way into your affairs and made you come here." Bruce said soberly. Clark parted his lips to tell him that it was okay, that he had no qualms about being here when Bruce's expression hardened, and his dark eyes, like two orbs of hardened obsidian, made him fall silent as the older man spoke.

" I can't make you stop hurting yourself with this shit. I can't make you stay here. I'm not your warden and I know you could plow right though me if you wanted to. I could spend the rest of the night and the next day telling you how dangerous what you're doing is, all the risks involved, all the damage you could do and even then I am not the one who can get you to stop. The only person who can make you stop is you." Bruce said grimly.

Then his dark eyes went to the lead-lined box, eying it with open disdain before he reached out and placed his hand on it. Clark's brow knitted in confusion as he watched Bruce shove the lead-lined box towards him. At Clark's questioning look, Bruce explained.

" I'm done forcing you Clark. Like you said, this is all on you, so I am leaving what happens now on you." Bruce said grimly before he continued.

" What do you mean Bruce?" Clark asked as his eyes went between Bruce and the box.

" You can continue what you've been doing until your luck runs out and it that's the case, there's the door right there." Bruce said as he gestured to the elegant black front doors to the lake house.

" You can take your bag and your box and get out, because I will have no part of your self-destructing. I won't be the one to tell your mom that you died for the _second_ time."

Clark felt the bottom drop out of his stomach at Bruce's words. His mind assaulted him with memories of how beside herself with pure joy his mother had been when he had come back. The very thought of hurting her again made Clark physically ill. Clark ducked his head for a second before he looked back up as Bruce continued.

" You could do that, or I get rid of this thing and you stay here with me. I'll call your boss in the morning and tell him that I asked you here for an exclusive interview since you made such an impression at Luthor's gala or because Bruce Wayne is just as curious about the intrepid reporter who came back from the dead. You stay and I will take care of you."

" B-Bruce." Clark whispered, his eyes over-bright.

Bruce shook his head and got up, looking down at Clark with tired, but hopeful eyes as he spoke.

" It's up to you Clark, you do whatever the Hell you want." He said quietly before he turned and walked away.

Clark let out a shaky breath and watched as Bruce went to the opposite side of the house, standing at the glass wall that overlooked the lake. The older man stood with his back to him and the moonlight from outside lightly silhouetting him. As he sat there, Clark turned his gaze away from Bruce to the front doors of the house, and then finally came to gaze at the lead-lined box.

Here he was, figuratively and literally at a fork in the road. On one side there was the door and its promise of nothing but loneliness and pain of his own making. On the other side there stood a man and what this man promised was an end to the loneliness, and end to the destructive habit he had started in his own attempt to feel something other than the cold.

It was up to him, and what he decided had everything to do with the course of his life from this moment on.

From where he stood, Bruce clenched his jaw and kept his gaze on the calm waters of the lake, envious of their calm serenity as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he waited to see what Clark would decide.

The sound of slowly approaching feet had Bruce turning and feeling a jolt go through his heart as he found Clark standing a few feet away from him, without his duffel bag and more importantly, without the lead-lined box. The two men stood facing each other, and there was a long bead of silence before Clark took a stepped forward and spoke.

" I'll stay with you." Clark said softly, shakily.

Bruce blinked at Clark owlishly, scarcely believing the turn of events, but not at all displeased. After another beat of silence, Bruce spoke.

" Okay. Okay." He said quietly as he closed the remaining distance between them.

Clark let out a small gasp before he could stop himself as Bruce wrapped his arms around him. It was the first real hug he had gotten in a long time, and knowing that Bruce was not the most tactile of people only made Clark appreciate the gesture even more. He all but melted against the older man and reached up to wrap his arms around Bruce and returned the embrace.

Clark didn't break down into sobs or start wailing out his despair. It wasn't some big, dramatic moment. Instead he just allowed himself to be held, allowed a few tears to escape his eyes as he buried his face into the junction where Bruce's neck neck his shoulder, the older man's heartbeat filling his ears thanks to his sensitive hearing. Bruce for his part took a moment to feel embarrassed about how much liberty he had taken with Clark, from hugging him now to when he had grabbed him and kissed him nearly two hours ago. He was always guarded, never really reaching out unless it was extraordinary circumstances. But as he felt Clark's breath against his shoulder, Bruce allowed a small quirk of his lips. The man he was holding in his arms was an extraordinary circumstance in and of himself, made even more so because Clark had chosen to stay with him.

They could have stood there for hours, but instead Bruce felt a jolt go through him as he felt incredibly soft lips against his neck. Before Bruce could completely process this, the lips started kissing a trail up his neck and along his jaw before finally sealing themselves over his lips. Bruce let out a low rumble of approval as he returned Clark's kiss, the both of them reveling in the feeling. They drew back several long moments later, both with their faces flushed and their pupils blown as Bruce spoke.

" Not... Not that I am complaining, but what brought that on?" Bruce asked quietly with the ghost of a smile over his features.

" Hey, you kissed me on that roof top earlier, figured I'd even the score." Clark replied, his voice husky and his eyes holding a glint of mischievousness, miles better than the dulness Bruce had seen in them all throughout the night.

" You keeping score now?" Bruce teased with a small, tried grin as he leaned in and pressed his forehead to Clark's.

" Maybe." Clark sighed as he let his eyes flutter at the feel of Bruce's forehead against his own.

It made something in Bruce twinge, seeing for himself just how touch-starved Clark was. The younger man's hands were all but fisting the back of his shirt. Bruce planned to rectify this, starting tonight.

Clark let out a muffled gasp as a pair of lips descended on his own. His eyes drifted shut and he lost himself in the kiss, his hands roaming over Bruce's powerful back over the thin material of his Henley shirt. With a low rumble, Bruce gripped Clark's hip with one hand while his other hand went to gently tangle in the Kryptonian's dark curls. They started moving across the floor without breaking the kiss, Bruce gently pushing Clark back towards the opposite end of the house. They broke apart with a small yelp from Clark as the backs of his legs hit the foot of Bruce's immaculately made bed and he went falling backwards, pulling Bruce with him.

They lay in a heap of tangled limbs, Clark's quiet chuckle mingling with Bruce's deep rumbling one. Bruce pushed himself up and gazed down at Clark, simply taking in the Kryptonian smiling.

" You seem oddly okay with a guy declaring his feelings for you." Bruce said with a quirk of his brow.

Bruce let out a small grunt as he found himself pulled sideways and on his back with Clark looming over him with a thoughtful expression on his face as he spoke.

" Like I told you, I was on a crab fishing boat in the middle of the Bearing Sea for four months, as part of an all man crew. I may have had an experience or two below deck."

Bruce groaned softly as Clark's words made a fiery heat uncurl in the pit of his stomach and spread through his whole body. Clark reached up and ran his hand through Bruce's dark hair, his thumb ghosting over the graying hairs at Bruce's temple before he leaned in and sealed his mouth to the older man's. The kiss was slow, sensual, Bruce's hands going to Clark's back and feeling the powerful muscles and sinews coiling and rippling beneath the thin cotton of Clark's button up shirt. When they broke apart several long moments later they were both breathing hard and looking wrecked. Clark mouthed at Bruce's stubble cover jaw until he reached the billionaire's ear. With a shuddering breath, Clark spoke against it.

" This feels amazing, you feel amazing, but this isn't going to magically fix everything." Clark said quietly.

Bruce slowly sat up so that Clark was straddling his lap, the Kryptonian marveling at the quiet strength of the other man wordlessly taking on a good chunk of his weight.

" I know this won't magically fix everything. Everything you went through, I can't even imagine anyone going through it and coming out okay. I am so sorry Clark. I know I can't just take it all away, but I can be here for you." Bruce said before he reached up and cupped the side of Clark's neck, pulling the younger man close enough so that his breath ghosted over the younger man's lips as he continued to speak.

" You and I both know the using the Kryptonite to deal with things isn't the right way." Bruce said quietly, waiting for Clark to nod before leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to the Kryptonian's lips.

" You said you'd never felt as cold as you did when you woke up in your grave, that even after you got out and knew sunlight again that cold stayed with you." Bruce said, Clark nodding and finally letting his face crumbling a little. Bruce reached up and cupped Clark's cheek, running his thumb over the younger man's bottom lip.

" You're here with me, I want to keep you warm. Will you let me Clark?" Bruce asked with all earnestness.

Clark felt his whole body shudder before he could stop himself. With a hitched breath he spoke a single word.

" Yes." He whispered before he all but lunged forward and smashed his mouth to Bruce's in a desperate kiss.

It was like the flood-gates opening as Bruce responded just as desperately and fell back onto the bed, taking Clark with him. A few minutes later, hands were seemed out hems and buttons, tugging urgently at the fabric that separated skin from skin. Soon a black Henley, and light blue button-up shirt, and two sets of jeans and underwear lay scattered around the bed, their owners having long forgotten them.

Bruce found himself smiling down at Clark as the younger man raked his clear blue eyes over his nude form, seemingly enraptured by the multitude of scars that littered his skin. With most people, Bruce would have to explain these many scars as the result of either recklessness or too much adventure, but with only a select few he could be honest and share that these were the tokens of being Batman for more than two decades.

Clark was one such person.

Clark had somehow become the person he wanted to show all of himself to.

Taking Clark's hands into his own, Bruce pressed one to the jagged scar over his right peck, where The Joker had once shot him point blank and nearly ended him, while he placed the other one over a neat, faded scar over the left side of his ribs, a souvenir from Ra's Al Gul's sword. Bruce let out a shaky breath as he felt Clark's fingers gently explore these mark and them reach for the many others that littered Bruce's well-built torso.

Bruce trailed his hands up Clark's forearms and his well built biceps, gliding then across his shoulders and down his chest. His fingers lingered over the jagged, crescent-shaped scar nearly right over Clark's heart before resuming in exploring the lightly haired planes of the Kryptonian's powerful chest and flat stomach, feeling the formidable muscles coiling and rippling beneath his palms. With a groan, Clark surged up and captured Bruce's lips, pouring all of his eagerness into it. Bruce smiled against those warm, soft, _living_ lips before he used his weight to push them back down onto the bed.

They broke apart with a gasp, Clark groaning as Bruce bit and and kissed his way down his neck until he reached his chest. Clark cried out as Bruce's mouth found the jagged, crescent scar that graced the center of his chest. His whole body felt like a live-wire as he arched and groaned as the feel of Bruce's teeth against the sensitive scar tissue.

Bruce drew away to stare down at Clark's flushed face, feeling a wave of possessiveness. He wanted to ask Clark if Lois ever touched him there, kissed his scar and worshiped the only mark on his otherwise flawless skin. He wanted to ask him many things, but Bruce knew better than to bring up a former lover and play one hundred questions. He had told Clark that he would take care of him, so that was what he would do.

He leaned down and went to work on Clark's neck and throat, the younger man's breathy moan filling the still air of the otherwise empty lakeside house. Another cry from Clark soon followed as Bruce reached between them and finally touched one of the most intimate parts of him. Bruce's own sounds of pleasure mingled with Clark, the Kryptonian's hands, capable of crushing steel and catching bullets were so gentle and warm. It only made Bruce remember yet again how wrong he had been about this man he was sharing his bed with.

After several long moments of kissing and caressing each other, Bruce leaned over Clark and reached into the drawer beside his bed and pulled out some necessary items for what he intended next.

Clark pushed himself up onto his elbows and gazed up at Bruce with a silent question as Bruce rolled the protection onto him. Bruce met those questioning blue eyes and wordlessly tilted his head. After a moment, comprehension dawned on Clark's face followed by a completely wrecked expression.

" Bruce, you don't have to-" Clark began to say before Bruce leaned in and silenced him with a kiss. When they drew apart, Bruce offered Clark a rare, genuine smile as he spoke.

" It's ok Clark, I want to, and I know you won't hurt me." He said quietly before he went about preparing himself.

Clark groaned as he watched Bruce do this, the older man a sight to behold with his muscular body rippling and his head thrown back in quiet pleasure.

A few moments later, a pair of loud, wrecked groans filled the air of the quiet lake house as Bruce slowly sank down onto Clark and finally joined their bodies. Bruce felt savage triumph surge through him as he watched Clark writhe and groan beneath him. Bruce reached down and started running his hands over Clark's heaving chest as he began to move. Clark felt like his every nerve ending in his body was on fire. It was overwhelming, being this connected to someone after so long. Letting out a shaky breath, Clark reached up and held Bruce's hips before he canted his own hips.

" Oh God." Bruce groaned as he threw his head back, feeling Clark go deeper.

When he looked back down, Bruce felt a jolt go through him as he saw the way Clark was looking at him. Those clear blue eyes had turned nearly black with want. Bruce reached down and cupped Clark's cheek. Clark turned his face into the calloused hand on his face and sighed, his eyes going quietly sad and contemplative as they looked off in the distance. There was a beat where they simply breathed. Then Clark's eye looked back up at Bruce filled with the bright glint of mischief.

Bruce had enough time to let out a startled grunt before he found himself on his back in the blink of an eye with Clark looming over him. That super speed being put to use. Before he could marvel at the fact that Clark's movements had been so controlled, so gentle that he hadn't even had the wind knocked out of him, his breath was stolen in a different manner as Clark sealed his mouth over his own in a searing kiss. Bruce let his eyes flutter shut as he lost himself in Clark seemingly trying to devour him. Bruce reached up and placed his hands on Clark's back, feeling the powerful muscles rippling and coiling beneath his palms. He dug his fingertips into Clark's shoulder and lower spine, earning a muffled groan of approval from the Kryptonian. They finally broke apart with a gasp, the both of them breathing hard.

Bruce was just lightly running his hand over the side of Clark's ribs when the the younger man slowly reached out and gripped Bruce's wrists. Now Bruce marveled at Clark's inhuman strength as he pinned Bruce's wrists above his head, holding them in one hand. It should have been painful, bruising, but instead Clark's fingers around Bruce's wrists were firm yet gentle.

Bruce's sharp yell echoed through the house as Clark drew his hips back and then surged forward.

" Clark." Bruce groaned.

" Oh." Clark sighed as he leaned down and pressed his forehead to Bruce's as he continued to moved.

With a shaky sigh, Clark pressed a kiss to Bruce's parted lips before he sought out the older man's neck and throat, seeking to drive Bruce mad with his teeth and tongue. Bruce hissed and arched up against Clark at a particularly hard bite to his neck. With his free hand Clark trailed his hand over Bruce's pounding heart, then down the quivering planes of his stomach, and then finally past his navel.

" Ah!" Bruce cried as Clark touched him.

Bruce wanted to touch every part of Clark that he could reach, but there was no way he was getting out of Clark's grip. Instead, Bruce pressed his lips to Clark's ear and started whispering praises in-between his moans and cries of pleasure. Bruce and Clark intermittent cries and groans filled the house for what seemed like hours, steadily growing louder until they finally reached a crescendo as Bruce's whole body went taught like a bow-string.

" Clark!" Bruce groaned as he fell over the edge into ecstasy.

Bruce's body clenching up was all Clark needed to reach his own climax as he too stiffened up above Bruce.

" Bruce." Came Clark's strained whisper as everything went white.

They rode out the forceful waves of pleasure washing over them, overwhelming their senses before they finally collapsed into a heap of tangled, shaking limbs and expensive sheets. With Clark's grip loose, Bruce pulled his wrists free once he had some semblance of his motor-funtions back and slowly wrapped his arms around Clark's lightly trembling form. Clark let out a shuddering breath against Bruce's throat as he spoke.

" Bruce... Bruce I..." He began to whisper as his eyes filled.

" 'm here Clark." Bruce murmured as his hand reached up to tangle in Clark's soft, dark hair.

" I.. I am not cold right now." Clark whispered as he felt himself finally crumbling completely.

Bruce tightened his his hold around Clark, feeling the Kryptonian's trembling and shuddered breaths as he spoke.

" Good. It's a start." He said before he sighed and carded his hand through Clark's hair as the younger man finally, finally broke down.

Bruce shut his eyes as he felt Clark's tears against the skin of his collar-bone and just held on, maybe for his own need to feel the man in his arms alive, well, and now, his, or maybe because some silly part of him didn't want Clark to just fly away, because the Kryptonian was literally capable. Either way they just laid there in true catharsis.

 _Several hours later with the night sky just starting to brighten with the oncoming dawn..._

Bruce took a lingering look at Clark, who was fast asleep on his side with the sheets pulled up around him. The man who was Batman let his eyes roam over the powerfully built back and the head of dark curls before he finally forced himself away from the bed. Once the afterglow had fully faded, they had gotten up and shuffled to the bathroom, the both of them too rung out and tired to do anything more than share a few kisses under the hot cascade as they cleaned themselves. Once they had finished, they had gone back to bed where Clark had all but passed out before his head even hit the pillows. While Clark had fallen asleep almost immediately, Bruce had remained awake and simply gazed at Clark. He had laid there in the quietness and taken in the fact that the younger man laying in his bed was alive and breathing, that he had touched him, connected with him in one of the deepest, most intimate ways, had convinced him to just stay here with him.

But as he had laid there in the stillness, Bruce had also remembered why he had brought Clark here, what he had seen the younger man do to himself a couple of nights ago. It was why he was leaving the warmth of his bed, and his sleeping lover. Bruce padded across his house unashamed of his nudeness as he made his way into the living room, where a certain lead-lined box still rested on the coffee table. Gazing at the box with quiet disdain, Bruce picked it up and then stepped over to the fireplace, where the once crackling fire was now nothing but smothering embers. With a sigh, Bruce pressed a hidden button under the sleek, black marble mantel above the fireplace. A hidden door slid away from the mantel side, revealing a small dumbwaiter built into the mantel. Bruce placed the lead-lined box inside and watched as the hidden door slid back into place leaving no trace of the mantel being anything more than a mantel. The little elevator would take the lead-lined box back down to the Batcave, where Bruce could take care of its deadly contents later.

Scrubbing at his face, Bruce turned away from the fireplace and made his way back towards his bedroom. As he rounded the corner, Bruce stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes fell on the bed, his heart seizing inside his chest.

Clark was still there fast asleep, he hadn't just disappeared without a word. But instead of laying on his side like Bruce had left him, Clark had rolled over onto his back with the sheets having pooled around his waist. As he gazed at Clark, Bruce's mind flashed back to a night of chaos, to a grotesque monster with a sharp bone protruding out from where its arm had been severed by an extraordinary immortal Amazon, to a spear of glowing green rock, and finally, to the aftermath, where Clark had laid on his back as he did now, with a gaping hole in his chest and his eyes glazed over in death.

Bruce closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, willing the images of what had happened six months ago away. When he opened them all he saw was Clark as he was now, peacefully asleep for the first time in what was probably months of isolated Hell, and the gaping hole in his chest replaced with the crescent shaped scar. Swallowing lightly, Bruce made his way back to his bed as quietly as he could, climbing under the sheets and shifting closer to Clark. With some gently pushes and prods, Bruce rolled Clark back onto his side and pressed up against the Kryptonian's back, feeling the warm, living skin against his own chest and quietly soothing Clark back into deep sleep after the younger man had frowned and groaned sleepily in protest to the movement. As he lay propped up on his elbow, Bruce reached down and gently ran his fingertips over Clark's smooth, clean shaven cheek.

He remembered how he had callously pressed his foot into Clark's throat and sliced into this same cheek with the Kryptonite spear. Bruce felt a dull twinge in his gut, the ever present shame and guilt washing over him as he remembered all that he had done to hurt the man he was laying with in his misguided anger and cruelty. As he finally laid down fully and wrapped one arm around Clark's waist while the other snaked under the sleeping Kryptonian's head, Bruce finally allowed the pull of sleep take full hop of him.

As he drifted off, Bruce knew that Clark's words from before were true, that this, what they had done with each other, while cathartic, was not a magical fix to everything. Clark was still recovering, and he had a long way to go before he got to the place where he would be okay. In the days ahead, Clark would bleed again, not physically for Bruce would use the best of his abilities to not allow Clark anywhere near Kryptonite again, but in the other ways a person could bleed, emotionally, mentally, spiritually.

Bruce didn't know what the morning, or the future would hold for him and the man in his arms, such things could not be divined. But as his dark eyes fell shut and his breathing evened out, Bruce was certain of one thing.

He would be there for Clark, he would staunch the bleeding.

 **The End**


End file.
